


Steady On

by omearalee



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e03 Eulogy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omearalee/pseuds/omearalee
Summary: “Can’t sleep?” she asked unnecessarily, her voice almost level. He stayed by the door, the length of the office between them feeling endless.
Relationships: Henry Foss & Helen Magnus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Steady On

**Author's Note:**

> i'm such a sucker for these two, gah. 
> 
> unbeta'd.

The Sanctuary felt still, as quiet as it ever could be in the dark of three in the morning. The lights of Old City glinted off the surface of the bay peacefully as Magnus observed them from her office window, her arms crossed protectively over her stomach. She made no move to wipe the tears from her face; she felt like she had been crying for days. Her heart ached with a bone deep tension that sometimes threatened to crush her where she stood. 

She’d had to focus on the work since Lazarus first appeared, and she had shoved down any reaction she could until the job was done. Now, though, there was nothing to distract her from the overwhelming press of emotions. She missed James keenly; his absence felt like the freefall of taking a step and the ground not being where it should. Guilt and shame and helplessness burned through her chest every time she replayed Ashley’s last moments in her mind. Even the jumble of anger and hurt and loss which accompanied John’s presence bubbled into the morass. 

A gentle knock on the door brought her out of her trance, and she hastily wiped at the tears on her cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. 

“I saw the light on,” Henry said softly, easing into the room and closing the door behind him. 

“Can’t sleep?” she asked unnecessarily, her voice almost level. He stayed by the door, the length of the office between them feeling endless. 

He exhaled, shaky and uneven. Magnus moved away from the window, motioning for the young man to sit. She produced a bottle of scotch and two tumblers from a cabinet and poured them each a finger of the amber liquid, handing him his own as she sat beside him. The crackle of the fire filled the silence between them for long minutes. 

“I don’t blame you, Henry, not even a little.” 

“I know, Doc, but I do.” He sighed, swirling the last of the scotch in the bottom of the glass before draining it. 

“We were outplayed. I should have anticipated it. I should not have let you go.” She fidgeted with her empty glass before placing it on the coffee table. “I am so sorry for what they did to you.” She swallowed thickly against the bile that rose at the thought of him restrained and screaming in pain as they forced his transformation. 

“I just... she’s my little sister. I was supposed to keep her safe.” His voice broke, and he looked up at her with tears in his eyes. “I miss her.” She drew him into her embrace, cradling his head against her shoulder as he cried. 

“I’ve got you, you’re safe now,” she murmured soothingly against his hair, hand stroking up and down his back. “I’m sorry for making you wait so long.” She knew that her hesitancy to hold a funeral interfered with everyone else’s grief, drew it out longer and longer as they waited for her to be ready. 

He pulled away and she held his face in both of her hands, her own tears streaking down her cheeks. For a moment she recognized him as a kindred spirit, slow to trust and lonely and frightened, yet now a little less alone. 

“Can I...?” he asked, and she pressed a slow kiss to his forehead in response. She tucked herself into the corner of the couch and he lay down, his head in her lap, like he did when he was young. Their relationship had grown and changed over the years as he grew, but parts of her missed _this_. She drew her hand up and down his arm and side in comforting strokes, and she felt him relaxing into sleep. 

“Sweet Henry,” Magnus said softly, feeling steadier, less like she was in freefall. 

“Mom?” he whispered sleepily, and for a moment he was that small boy once again. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” She pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and settled it over Henry’s sleeping form. A soft smile curved her lips and she carded her fingers gently through his hair.


End file.
